


I'm Lovin' It

by unacaritafeliz



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Cafe AU, Derek "Nursey" Nurse is Unchill, Dex Holster and Foxtrot are also there, Freezie don't kill me challenge, Getting Together, M/M, McCafé au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21693541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unacaritafeliz/pseuds/unacaritafeliz
Summary: It's not until he's sitting down with his notebook out, rushing to copy the notes Professor Birch put up on the board before he arrived, that Derek even takes a sip of his coffee.It's disgusting.Possibly, it's the worst coffee Derek has ever had.He's going back tomorrow[Chris Chow is a hot McCafé barista. Derek Nurse hates the McCafé, but buys coffee from there everyday anyway.]
Relationships: Chris "Chowder" Chow/Derek "Nursey" Nurse
Comments: 16
Kudos: 65





	I'm Lovin' It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonkid28](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonkid28/gifts).



Derek's skin itches unpleasantly as he walks into the Samwell McDonald's on a gloomy Monday morning. He feels gross, like he's letting down every person in New York City by even considering this, but his poetry seminar is in ten minutes and Annie's is halfway across campus and Professor Birch will not appreciate it if Derek is late because he was out getting coffee.

The restaurant - if McDonald's even be called a restaurant - is unsurprisingly empty for a college campus store at 8:50am on a Monday. There's no customers, only a handful of bored looking employees wiping down countertops and pretending to look busy. Derek walks towards the McCafé portion of the store, where a grumpy looking redhead is leaning against the counter, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere but here.

"Hey," says the redhead. Derek kind of respects how he's not even trying to fake a customer service voice. "What can I get you?"

"Uh, a large espresso, please," Derek says. He glances at the food in the glass cabinet to the right of the register. It all looks borderline inedible, but the alternatives are a greasy McDonald's burger or starving in his seminar for the next two hours. "And a blueberry muffin, thanks."

"Okay," says the redhead. "That'll be $7.49, thanks."

God, what a rort, Derek thinks as he swipes his card. He could pay the same at Annie's and get something so much better than this.

He takes a paper bag with the muffin from the redhead and moves to stand in front of the coffee machine to wait for his coffee. There's a barista - actually, are McCafé employees even called baristas? Maybe they're called McBaristas - making his coffee, but Derek can't see them, he can only make out the messy black hair on the top of their head.

"A large espresso," calls the McBarista, in a strong, deep Californian accent, sliding the coffee forward along the counter.

Derek steps forward to collect his drink, finally makes eye contact with the McBarista and feels his entire world view shift. The McBarista is McGorgeous, with warm chocolate-coloured eyes, sharp cheekbones and freckles that dot his nose like tiny little stars. He's the most beautiful man that Derek's ever seen.

Then, he smiles at Derek, broad and sunny - and oh God, he's got braces, how endearing is that? - and Derek promptly drops his coffee onto the countertop.

"Oh shit!' Derek yells, absolutely mortified. His face heats up as McGorgeous scoops up the cup before it causes too much of a mess. "Fuck, man, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay!" says McGeorgeous, brightly. "I'll make you another one. Dex, could you get a rag for the spill, please?"

“God, I'm sorry," Derek repeats. "I'll pay you for the new one."

"Don't worry about it," says McGorgeous, waving away Derek's wallet. "Accidents happen!"

"Oh my god, thank you, uh..." Derek peers at McGorgeous' name badge, desperately wanting to know the name of this absolute angel on Earth, but he can't read it from this distance. He knows he doesn't really need to wear his glasses when he's just out walking, but damn he's wearing them every single second from now on.

"No worries!' says McGorgeous. He has not noticed Derek staring at his chest like a weirdo which means he doesn't give Derek his name but also doesn't file a restraining order against him. "Just don't drop this one, okay."

"I'll protect it with my life," Derek says, because he's an idiot who has never once said anything smart in his life. He distracts himself from saying anything else by throwing a couple of bills in the tip jar.

McGorgeous laughs, warm and bright and McGorgeous, as he slides the new cup over to Derek. Derek, who has never felt so hopelessly gay in his life, carefully wraps his hand around the cup, making sure it's secure in his grip before he lifts it from the counter.

"Have a good day!" McGorgeous says, offering Derek one last smile before he moves back behind his coffee machine.

It's the end of the conversation, so Derek's supposed to leave now, right? He's supposed to just turn his back on this absolutely gorgeous human and just go... to his seminar. He has to go to his seminar, that is starting approximately one minute from now.

Fuck.

Derek power walks out of the McDonald's and around the corner, before breaking out into a run to get his seminar. It's not until he's sitting down with his notebook out, rushing to copy the notes Professor Birch put up on the board before he arrived, that Derek even takes a sip of his coffee.

It's disgusting.

Possibly, it's the worst coffee Derek has ever had.

He's going back tomorrow.

* * *

Derek wakes up early on Tuesday. He dresses in his best button-up shirt and most flattering pants, spends fifteen minutes wrestling his hair into place, swipes a hint of highlighter across both his cheekbones and then walks over to the goddamn McCafé even though his first class is on the complete other side of campus.

He's maybe pathetic. He's definitely overdressed. He kind of doesn't care.

"Oh, you're back," says the redhead at the counter, sounding genuinely surprised. Derek supposes that most people can't stomach the disgusting coffee two days in a row. "What can I get you?"

Derek glances at the menu, trying to find the thing that's the hardest to fuck up. Maybe something drowning in sugar will be enough to mask the sewer water taste of the McCafé coffee?

"A large caramel mocha, please," Derek says.

"$3.99" says the redhead.

Derek pays quickly, and moves over to the side of the coffee machine, sliding right over so he can see around it. McGorgeous is there, in all his gorgeousness, deftly making coffee. Derek, who was smart enough to wear his glasses today, glances at his name badge.

Chris.

The love of Derek's life is named Chris.

What a beautiful name.

"A large caramel mocha?" calls Chris. He pushes the coffee forward and glances up. He smiles when he sees Derek. Derek has never before felt this blessed. "Oh, hi, again!"

"Hi," says Derek. "Thanks for the coffee."

"My pleasure!" says Chris, sounding very genuine. He smirks at Derek, looking more beautiful and more dangerous than before. "You won't drop this one, will you?"

"No," says Derek, quickly. He can feel his face heating up in a blush. "Won't make that mistake twice."

"Good," says Chris, with a smile. He gestures to his own (perfect) cheekbones with his index finger. "I like your highlighter today. It's very pretty."

You're very pretty, Derek thinks. He doesn't say the words out loud but it's a very close thing.

"Thank you," he says, instead.

He wants to say more. Really, he does. He woke up early and everything just so he wouldn't be in a rush to get to class and could spend as much time talking to the McBarista as possible, but now, actually face to face with the guy, Derek finds he has no idea what to say. What could he say to the most beautiful human in the world?

"Well, have a good day today, okay?" Chris says, blessing Derek with one more smile before he ducks behind his coffee maker.

"You too," Derek says, quietly, to the machine.

He walks out of the door, disappointment seeping into his bones, and takes a sip of his drink. The intense sweetness of the caramel and disgusting bitterness of the coffee hits his tongue immediately and he grimaces, glad that Chris can't see his expression.

He glances at his phone. Since his plan to engage McGoregous in riveting conversation - and eventually ask for his number and/or hand in marriage - didn't work, there's still half an hour until his first class.

Annie's is ten minutes away.

Their coffee is actually drinkable.

He drops the mocha into the bin. He'll buy a better coffee before class.

* * *

When Derek steps into the McDonald's on Wednesday, wearing a dark green sweater that brings out his eyes and his lucky pair of socks, Chris isn't there. The grumpy redhead is at the till again, but the McBarista is a blond guy, with huge shoulders and thick glasses, tall enough to be seen over the coffee maker. 

God, what a waste of wearing this sweater and trekking all the way out to this godforsaken place, Derek thinks. At least he can just leave today though, without having to pay money for the shithouse coffee...

He makes eye contact with the redhead, who raises a single - poorly groomed - eyebrow at him. Fuck, Derek can't just leave now. It'll look hella suspicious, and redhead might tell Chris, who'll then never speak to Derek ever again. With a sigh, Derek walks up to the counter.

"Hi, again," the redhead says.

"Oh, hey," says Derek, scanning the menu for the absolute cheapest thing he can find. "A small premium roast, please?"

"$1.20," the redhead says.

$1.20 to not even be able to talk to the man of his dreams, Derek thinks, bitterly, swiping his card. What an absolute waste. At least the blonde McBarista isn't chatty. Derek's not really in the mood to talk to anyone but Chris right now.

"Here you go," says the blond giant, handing him his drink. His voice is so loud. His teeth are huge.

"Thank you," says Derek.

He glances at the cup in his hand as he walks out of the store. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, there's a possibility that the coffee he's had the past two days has been bad because Chris is making it, not because it's from the McCafé. It doesn't really matter to Derek - Chris is an angel and Derek would still like him even if he was a shit barista - but he just has to know...

He takes the tiniest, most insignificant sip he can manage.

It's not good.

If anything, it's even worse than the drinks Chris makes.

He drops it in the bin outside and starts walking to Annie's.  
  


* * *

Derek lights up when he walks into McDonald's on Thursday and sees a familiar head of messy black hair hiding behind the coffee maker. He takes a deep, calming breath and exhales it forcefully before he walks up to the counter. Today is his day, he's going to have an actual conversation with Chris and it's going to be awesome.

"Good morning!" he tells the grumpy redhead, smiling at him for the first time. "Small premium roast, again, please."

"$1.20," says the redhead.

Derek swipes his card and moves over to stand next to the coffee machine. He leans over until he can see Chris' gorgeous face.

"Hi there!" Derek says, excitedly.

Chris jumps, startled, and Derek panics. Chris is making boiling hot coffee, using a hot coffee making machine, and he will never date Derek if he burnt himself on said coffee or coffee machine. Fortunately, Chris is not a human disaster like Derek and doesn't hurt himself, regaining his composure quickly, and smiles brightly at Derek.

"Oh, hi!" he says. "You're almost becoming a regular."

"Yeah," says Derek. "I'm Derek."

"It's nice to officially meet you, Derek," says Chris. Derek's name sounds beautiful on his lips. "I'm Chris."

"It's nice to meet you too, Chris," says Derek, instead of admitting that he already knows. "Do you work here everyday?"

It's supposed to sound chill, casual - just a regular friendly inquiry into the life of a stranger, nothing weird or stalkerish about it. Derek has no idea if he hits that mark, but if he doesn't, Chris doesn't say anything about it.

"Nah, just Monday, Tuesday and Thursday mornings," says Chris. He slides the coffee over to Derek, who picks it up very, very carefully. "I have an early class on Wednesday and training on Friday."

"Training?" Derek asks.

"Yeah, Dex and I are on the hockey team," says Chris, pointing his thumb at the grumpy redhead who is apparently named Dex. Instead of storing this information, Derek utilises his brain capacity to imagine Chris checking him into a wall.

"Oh, cool," says Derek, face heating up at the thought. "What position do you play?"

"Goalie!" Chris says, which means that Chris maybe wouldn't check him into a wall, but also kind of explains why he's the way that he is. No one as sunny as Chris could be anything but a goalie. "Dex plays defense."

"I'll have to come check out a game," says Derek, leaning forward on the counter.

"You should!" says Chris, looking genuinely excited. "I'm always trying to get people to come to our games."

"The next time you're playing at home, I'll be there," Derek says with a smile.

"'Swawesome!" Chris says. Derek's not fully familiar with the word, but he knows a lot of the Samwell jocks use it. He used to think it was kind of dumb, but he definitely doesn't anymore. "Do you play any sports, Derek?"

"No," Derek says. "But, uh, I'm on the debate team, if that counts?"

"Wow, debate!" says Chris. "Are you an English major?"

"English lit," says Derek, praying that Chris has no idea where the main English building is, considering its nowhere near the McDonald's. "I'm a sophomore. What about you?"

"I'm a sophomore too!" says Chris. "I study computer science."

Of course, Chris is beauty and brains and brawn. How perfect can one person be?

"You must be so smart," says Derek.

"So must you, Mr. English lit and debate team," Chris says, earnestly. He must actually believe it's just as hard to be an English major as it does to be a STEM major. The redhead clearly doesn't agree, considering how he snorts at their conversation.

Derek and Chris ignore him anyway, choosing instead to stare deeply into each other's eyes. Or maybe Derek's the only one staring deeply. He doesn't care. Chris has beautiful eyes. Derek could write a million poems about how it feels to look into them.

"Anyway, you probably have to get to class," says Chris, breaking their staring competition as he steps back to his machine. "I'll see you around though?"

"Yeah, for sure," says Derek. "Chill."

He's an idiot.

He smiles to himself as he walks out of the McCafé though. He did well today. He and Chris actually had a whole conversation. And he mightn't have got Chris' number, but it would have been totally weird for him to ask so soon anyway.

He dumps his coffee in the bin without even looking at it, and he heads over to Annie's.

There's always next week.

* * *

The next week goes like this:

On Monday, Derek learns that Chris' hockey nickname is Chowder, even though he doesn't like either the name or the soup. He learns Chris's favourite soup is actually the hot and sour soup that his grandma makes and, in return, tells Chris all about the collard greens his grandfather makes that Derek can't wait to go home for. Derek suggests Chris changes his hockey nickname to 'C'. Chris says Derek's hockey nickname would be 'Nursey'. 

Derek does not drink the McCafé coffee. He does not ask for Chris' number.

On Tuesday, Derek learns that Chris is from San Jose and has been a diehard Sharks supporter his whole life. Chris admits a little shyly that all his clothes, apart from his McCafé uniform, are teal and his favourite animals are sharks. Derek finds the whole thing adorable. In return, he tells Chris about growing up in New York, about lunches with his grandparents in Central Park and how he got lost on the subway when he was eight.

Derek does not drink the McCafé coffee. He does not ask for Chris' number.

On Thursday, its Derek's twin stepsisters birthday, so Derek tells Chris all about his siblings, about growing up with Farrah, and stepping into the big sibling role for his stepsiblings last year. In return, Chris tells him about his little sister Annabella, a sophomore in high school and an aspiring ballerina, about how they never got on as kids but are best friends now that they're older. Chris even takes a five minute break from work to show Derek their adorable childhood photos.

Derek does not drink the McCafé coffee. He does not ask for Chris' number.

On Saturday, Derek steals his roommates only Samwell t-shirt and drags Denice to the Samwell vs Yale men's hockey game. They sit in the stands close to the goalpost, where Derek has prime view of Chris, dressed in bulky goalie padding, beautiful face hidden behind his visor, stop every single puck that comes his way. He also chews out the Yale forward, using far more aggressive and colourful language than Derek thought him capable of. Derek finds himself just as enamored with aggressive goalie Chris as he is with sunshine McBarista Chris.

Derek doesn't even have to buy McCafé coffee. He still doesn't ask for Chris' number.

This continues for the next week, and the week after that, and the week after that. Every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday, Derek will buy a coffee he won't drink just for a chance to talk to Chris and finds himself falling further and further in love with him. He knows he should ask for Chris' number, but he keeps psyching himself out. Chris has never made a move, what if he's not interested? What if Derek's left it too long and it's weird to ask for it now? What if Chris thinks he's a weirdo for coming into the McCafé so often and always ordering the cheapest thing on the menu?

Derek's behaviour could honestly have continued for years, but one Sunday evening, almost five weeks after Derek walked into the McCafé for the first time, Denice steps in - meaning she threatens to stop talking to Derek if he leaves the McCafé without Chris' number one more time.

For someone so tiny, Denice Ford is a terrifying force of nature.

Derek decides its time to ask for Chris' number.

* * *

On Monday, Derek wears his nicest outfit, and his highlighter and power walks to the McCafé. He's nervous, maybe more nervous than he's been about anything before, but he knows that Denice's less-than-gentle prodding is exactly what he needs. He's going to finally do it, he's either going to get Chris' number or get politely rejected, calm down and get over his crush. Either way, the shitty McCafé coffee he buys today is going to be the last shitty McCafé coffee he ever buys in his life.

He rushes up to the McCafé and opens the door, adrenaline coursing through his veins, declaration on the tip of his tongue and... Chris isn't there. The redhead is behind the counter by himself, looking even more grumpy than he usually does.

Derek's not really sure if this is a blessing or not.

"Hey, Derek," grumpy redhead calls out in greeting. "Chow is running late today. Did you still want to order anything?"

Oh god, Derek thinks, panicking. Grumpy redhead knows. He knows that Derek only comes to this godforsaken place, only buys their godforsaken coffee because of Chris. Does Chris know? Has grumpy redhead told him? Has Derek been painfully obvious this whole time and Chris hasn't made a move yet simply because he not interested in Derek?

"Of course I want to buy something!" Derek says, a little too loud, giving a laugh that's a little too far from chill. "Why wouldn't I want to order something just because Chris is running late?"

The grumpy redhead stares at him, unimpressed.

"A small premium roast, please," Derek mutters.

The redhead punches his order into the system and then moves over to make the coffee himself while Derek pays. He slides the coffee towards Derek.

"Thanks," Derek says, offering the redhead a smile so that he can't see how sad Derek is and won't tell Chris about it.

Derek frowns as he walks out of the McDonald's. Honestly, he's not really sure Denice will accept 'Chris wasn't there' as an excuse for him not having Chris' number right now. He'll probably have to avoid her all day, until he can try again tomorrow.

He drops his shitty McCafé coffee - sadly, not not the last shitty McCafé coffee he'll have to buy - into the bin out the front of the store.

"Derek?" asks a familiar voice, deep, with a sunny California accent.

Oh shit, Derek thinks.

"Oh, hey, C!" Derek says, overly bright, turning around to look at Chris. "How are you?"

"Did you just throw your coffee in the bin?" Chris asks.

"I finished it," Derek lies. He feels a little manic, and hopes he doesn't look it. In his defense though, he's absolutely panicking. "It's very small, and I started drinking it when I was inside."

"You never drink your coffee in the store," says Chris, frowning. His sparse eyebrows are knitted together in concern and Derek shouldn't really be so hopelessly attracted to him right now but he is anyway.

"I did today?" Derek tries.

"Derek," Chris says, clearly unconvinced. He crosses his arms over his chest, and raises an eyebrow in question.

"So, this is actually a funny story," Derek says, despite knowing it's not funny, like at all. "But, I, uh, haven't been drinking the McCafé coffee? I mean I did the first day, but not since then."

"What?" Chris asks. "But, why?"

"It's not good coffee?" Derek says. Shit, Chris makes that coffee! He'll hate Derek for insulting it. "Not because of you! Your coworker made me one once, the big blonde guy? It was even worse than yours. I think it's just the McCafé blend? I tried not to be a snob about it but I'm..."

"No, Derek," says Chris. "I get not drinking the coffee. The coffee is objectively awful. I just don't know why you've been coming here every day for five weeks to buy coffee that you weren't going to drink."

Derek stares at Chris, into his earnest brown eyes, and can't come up with a single decent excuse for his behaviour except for the truth, as mortifying as it is.

And, well, he did promise Denice he'd tell Chris how he felt today. Granted, he'd planned on doing that without admitting to how much of a weirdo he was being, but beggars can't be choosers, can they?

"Look, I like you, okay?" says Derek. Chris' eyes go wide. "I have since the first day I came in here. And I know I should've asked you out weeks ago but I was just so worried that you'd say no that I came here to talk to you every day instead."

"You wanted to talk to me?" Chris says. Derek nods. "Why didn't you just text me instead of coming here every day to pay money for a coffee you didn't even drink?"

"Text you?" Derek says, frowning. "Chris, how could I have texted you? I never worked up the nerve to ask you for your number!"

"But, I gave you my number?" Chris says. Derek's brain short-circuiting. How can he not remember Chris giving Derek his number? "Like a whole month ago. I wrote it on your cup but you never mentioned it so I figured you weren't interested and didn't want to make a big deal out of it. Dex was so mad that you just ignored it but I..."

"You wrote it on my cup," Derek says, breathlessly, as things finally click into place. God, he's an idiot. "Chris, I've been throwing out the coffee as soon as I left the building. I've never even looked at the cup."

"Oh," Chris says. "You never saw it."

"I'm so sorry," says Derek, staring at the floor. "I'm such an idiot."

He's mortified. No, he's so much worse than mortified. He actually had a chance with Chris and he ruined it. He's going to drop out of Samwell and go back to New York and never leave his moms brownstone ever again.

"Yeah," Chris agrees. "You are."

Chris fingers fit themselves under Derek's chin and push it up until Derek's looking at Chris again. He's smiling; his pretty brown eyes are absolutely sparkling with mirth. Hope swells in Derek's chest.

"Any chance you'll give me your number again?" he asks, quietly.

"Maybe," Chris sing-songs. His fingers haven't left Derek's face. "You have to promise me one thing first, though."

"Anything," Derek says.

Chris smiles, and leans forward until his face is mere centimeters away from Derek's. Derek's breath catches in his throat.

"Don't you ever step foot into a McCafé ever again," Chris says.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't drink coffee. I've never been to a McCafé. I have no idea if this is accurate. Chowder deserves better. Nursey deserves better. Holster deserves better. Dex... deserves exactly what he got. This is all Freezie's fault. I will not accept criticism. The Christmas fic will be updated soon. Thank you and goodnight.


End file.
